


some sense of security

by slutorama



Series: a world without shrimp [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: (you don't even have to squint it's just There), ...sort of?, Alternate Universe - High School, But that never happened, F/F, I wrote this a long time ago, Just having an angsty time, So here is a snapshot of what might have been, Unrequited Love BFFs, as a test thing, for a longfic i wanted to do, it's shippy if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:44:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8357809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutorama/pseuds/slutorama
Summary: I don't know what the logistics of this alternate universe are or what any of this has to do with anything, but it's not really important if you're just here for some good Faith and Tara friendship fun times (and these are some good times, or so I've been told).





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what the logistics of this alternate universe are or what any of this has to do with anything, but it's not really important if you're just here for some good Faith and Tara friendship fun times (and these are some good times, or so I've been told).

Faith was not a nice girl, but when Tara showed up at her apartment with red-rimmed eyes and hair wet from running in the rain, she let her in, even though she didn't have a clue what to do after. The whole “best friends” thing was new to her, to both of them, and her first reaction had been to crack a joke, which had only made Tara cry harder.

  


They ended up huddled together in Faith's mess of a bed to watch the zombie flick she’d been trying to follow before Tara showed up. Faith hadn't glanced at the screen once since Tara joined her, though, as her attention was focused fully on the trembling girl at her side. Tara's eyes were wide and unblinking, and maybe a little bit angry, and the flashing lights from the TV illuminated the tears trailing down her cheeks. 

  


After spending most of last summer renting movies with Tara and fighting every inch of the way to get her to watch something jam-packed with blood and guts, Faith knew that her friend couldn’t be _that_ interested in the movie. The one time they’d gotten something halfway scary, Tara spent the whole time shielding her eyes, not glaring the thing down like she was challenging it to a fight.

  


“You hungry?” Faith asked as she nudged Tara in the ribs. Food could be comforting, right? Faith thought she'd heard Tara, or maybe Tara's mom, say that once before. “I've got some ramen laying around here somewhere, I think.”

  


Tara turned away from the television for the first time in nearly an hour, and forced a shy smile when her eyes met Faith's. “N-n-no. Th-thanks, though.” Her words sounded raspy and hoarse, like she hadn't only started crying an hour ago, like this had been an ongoing thing all day, and her throat was sore over it.

  


“No problem,” Faith said, leaning back against her pillows in an attempt to feign placidity, “So… don't get it twisted, 'cause I'm cool with you being here, but it's not like you to show up looking so beat.”

  


Tara gulped hard and lowered her gaze to the ugly green comforter on Faith's bed. Her forehead scrunched up the way it did in math class when the answers to the problems on the board didn't match up with the ones she'd let Faith copy down. In school, she'd go red in the face with embarrassment and mutter out apologies for getting the two of them an F, like it was her responsibility alone to make sure they both passed, and tonight wasn't so different.

  


Before the apologies rushed forth like a herd of raging bulls, her cheeks flushed bright red and her head dipped so low that her chin stuck to her chest. “I'm s-so sorry. I shouldn't have...um, I mean, I'm intruding, aren't I? You were watching your movie, and now…"

  


“It's cool,” Faith said, quick to defuse the situation before Tara started crying again, “You know I can't stand being away from you for more than five minutes.”

  


That pulled another smile out of her girl, but it was quickly replaced with a scowl, almost like she felt the need to chastise herself for being happy for two seconds.

  


“It's m-my mom,” Tara said, rubbing her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her sweater.

  


Faith fought the urge to slam her fists into something. The lamp on her bedside table, maybe, or she could put a hole in one of those tobacco-stained walls. That would make her feel better. Not Tara, of course, but Faith could get through the next minute, the next second, without imploding. And then she could take care of Tara – good and proper – the way a friend was supposed to. If only she could…

  


“Hey.” Tara's voice sounded almost as soft as her hand felt, catching Faith's cheek before she had a chance to leap off the bed and smash something. “Don't, okay?”

  


Faith stiffened at the contact, nice as it was, and eyed Tara suspiciously. She'd come here for comfort, after all, so what was she doing playing peace keeper with _her_? But then Faith remembered that Tara usually acted the way a friend was supposed to, and she balled both of her hands into white-knuckled fists that trembled at her sides.

  


“I'm good,” Faith grunted, gulping down the rage to focus on Tara through the haze of red clouding her vision, “You're the one who's not. What's up with your mom? She okay?”

  


“No,” Tara said, before a harsh wince stole the words from her momentarily, “I mean, she's alive, but she's not… _okay_ , I guess.”

  


“Oh,” Faith said, her voice low, “What, uh, happened?”

  


Tara sucked in a hard breath and let it out slowly, halfway to delay whatever it was she'd come over to say, and halfway to keep her lungs pumping out oxygen at all. Faith wondered why she did that, always reacting to everything with silence and the sucking of air to keep her head steady. It was easier to throw a fist through the wall or kick the bed. Way faster, too.

  


“She fainted again,” Tara said, cringing as she spoke, “I… I found her on the floor in the kitchen. She still had a mixing spoon in her hand and the oven was on and everything and... and at first I wasn't sure, you know? She felt kind of cold and I didn't know if she w-was... if she...”

  


Faith finally took her chance to make up for the dumb joke she'd tried at her front door, the stupid offering of ramen, and her urge to break everything in the room. She flung her arms around Tara, who trembled and shook and tried oh-so hard not to cry. The embrace broke her, as expected, and she sobbed openly into Faith's waiting shoulder. Faith could feel salty tears pooling on her bare skin and soaking the strap of her tank top, but what kind of person would she be if she shoved Tara off and told her to cut it out? Not a good one, and Tara made her feel like being a good one, despite everything inside her that told her she couldn't.

  


“It just got me thinking,” Tara said, her words a little muffled by Faith's shoulder, but still easy enough to make out, “What if sh-she… if she died, you know? What would I do?”

  


“Your mom's not gonna die on you,” Faith said fiercely, relinquishing her hold on the girl's back to grasp her forearms and push Tara away so she could stare at her dead-on, “She's not that kind of chick.”

  


Tara sniffled. “She doesn't really get a say in it, though, does she?”

  


“Sure she does. Isn't that what happens on TV? They're always talking about people being strong or whatever and kicking cancer's ass."

  


“That's TV, Faith.” Tara sounded like she was explaining math to a two year old, and it might have made Faith angry if it had been anyone other than _her_.

  


“Your mom's tough as hell. I wouldn’t wanna run into her in a dark alley.”

  


Tara snorted, “Have you seen her lately?"

  


“C’mon, T. She puts up with your dad on the daily,” Faith added without missing a beat, “And that takes something. Something that I don't even have, and I already know I'd take cancer out before it got a shot in.”

  


“Probably,” Tara said, her lips curling into a sideways smile.

  


Faith licked her lips and tried to figure out what to do next. The whole comforting thing hadn't really been covered with her before Tara came along. She settled on rubbing circles into Tara's skin with her thumbs and said, “It's gonna work out. You'll see.”

  


“It's just scary, I guess. The great… unknown and everything.” Tara slumped forward and sighed, “I keep trying to figure out how my dad would react... what he'd do… if, well, you-know.”

  


“Anything cool come to mind?” Faith asked, hoping her voice sounded calm despite the clenching of her teeth.

  


Tara bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “No. Not really. _Although_ ,” her smile came back, broader than Faith had seen it so far tonight, “I did have a cool running away scenario that I sort of hoped to involve you in, if it came to that.”

  


“I'd be down. Duh.”

  


“Duh?”

  


Faith nodded and released her hold on Tara. She maneuvered back to her side so they could both face the TV again and shrugged. “Yeah. Sunny D's gettin' kinda tired, you know? I miss Boston. Way less violent crime back home.”

  


“Yeah, you're probably right. I'm sort of beginning to worry that we won't make it to graduation next year, what with all of the… dead kids.” Tara's eyes glazed for a second, like she'd fallen back into that pit of despair where thoughts of her mother lived, but she recovered quickly enough and forced a soft smile.

  


Faith couldn't find the energy to return it. Tara had brought up something that had her skin crawling with nerves and uncertainty. _Graduation_. That thing Faith hadn't planned on attending in the first place, but also hadn't had the heart to tell Tara about it yet. That thing she _really_ needed to bring up, at some point, maybe even now while they played show and tell with their insecurities.

  


“Eh. Worry about yourself,” Faith mumbled after a pause.

  


“What?” Tara squinted. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  


Faith sighed heavily and shrugged her shoulders. “We both know what it means.”

  


“Wait, no, _Faith_. Y-you can't drop out,” Tara said, her eyes wide with terror, “You're so close.”

  


“Yeah, I'll finish out the next couple months, and then I've still got a whole 'nother year to get through. Another year of me failing everything all the time and–”

  


“I'll help you,” Tara cut in breathlessly, “Like I always do. I'm here for you. You… you do know that, don't you? I-I'm here.”

  


Faith ran a hand through her hair and scrunched it to keep herself from doing something she'd regret, something to Tara. The urge seeped into her voice, however, and she snarled, “You can't spend your whole life makin' sure I eat my veggies and turn my homework in, T.”

  


“Someone has to.”

  


“Oh, so because my mom ran out, you gotta do it?” Faith released her hair and clutched the comforter bunching up beneath the two of them with angry fists that refused to relax. “I can't…” Faith closed her eyes for a second and tried out Tara's breathing thing, sucking air in through her nostrils and letting it out slowly through her mouth as she continued, “Look, I had enough cash layin' around and stuff to sell to get me through for a month or two, but what am I supposed to do when it's gone? How am I supposed to focus on getting to class on time when I don't even know if I've got a place to stay? Or shit to eat?”

  


Tara cast her gaze downward and chewed her bottom lip again, adding a couple new teeth marks to the row of little red dots that never seemed to heal. Tara's default mode tended toward downcast eyes and lip biting action, so it wasn't like she ever gave her skin a chance.

  


She appeared deep in thought, probably trying to dream up some ridiculous way to keep the bills paid, but Faith already knew the outcome. She didn't have book smarts like Tara, but she wasn't so stupid that she couldn't run a few simple addition problems to figure out how screwed she was. And, damn, was she screwed.

  


Faith frowned at her balled up fists and did her best to relax them again, breathing slowly through her nose and gritting her teeth. Tara always got weird when she got angry, so Faith tried to stay calm during their time together, but sometimes she couldn't help it. Her fingers still twitched with need, and she wondered if Tara might give her five minutes to lash out at the wall like she had thought about earlier. If only she could bring herself to ask for such a favor.

  


“I could try to help,” Tara mumbled, placing those soft hands over Faith's shaking ones, like she _knew_ , “I mean, I don't have any money, but m-my dad does.”

  


“What?” Faith met her eyes, noting that Tara's soft blues had hardened and iced over with resolve, and she couldn't help but stare slack jawed at her. “Tara, no. Bad plan. You can't steal from your dad. Not _your_ dad, anyway.”

  


“Why not?”

  


Faith snorted, and then said, “Oh, I dunno, maybe ‘cause he'd kill you? Maybe even both of us? He's been looking for an excuse to shoot me since day one.”

  


Tara grimaced. “It's that, or you get a job, and… well, it's _you_ we're talking about, after all."

  


“Stealing from your parents, though.” Faith shook her head. “For _me_? Doesn’t sound worth it, T.”

  


“You're my friend,” Tara said, gripping Faith's hands a little tighter, “You're my _best_ friend.”

  


Faith shrugged. “Just 'cause I'm the only one who can stand you.”

  


Tara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that's it.”

  


“Or maybe you're the only one who can stand me?"

  


“Maybe,” Tara said with a sly smile, “It's just… I need you. My life is way better with you in it, and I can't imagine going back to being…”

  


“Alone,” Faith finished for her with a frown, her throat tightening at the thought, “I get it.”

  


“You’re the only one who does,” Tara admitted before despair reclaimed its hold over her, “And with my m-mom, uh, d-d-dying…"

  


“ _Tara_ ,” Faith sighed, hoping to shut down the rant right there.

  


“I just… I don't know how I'd handle it by myself. You're the coolest person I know, and… I've kind of gotten used to having someone around who doesn't call me stu-stupid all the time? It's… n-nice, I guess… which probably sounds really dumb, but…"

  


“I'm just honest. I can't call you something you're not.”

  


Tara smirked. “ _And_ you can be really sweet when you try."

  


“Yeah, yeah, sweet, whatever you say. Now, about me being the coolest person you've ever met…”

  


“Faith.”

  


“What? Some girls like diamonds, and I like gettin' my ego fluffed. What's the big deal?”

  


Tara shook her head and sighed, “There was a point in there, somewhere, about me not wanting to lose you.”

  


“Just wanted to hear you say it again. With fewer words. Maybe a little more direct, even. That's all.”

  


“Don't go?”

  


"There it is."

  


"Let me help you," Tara said, running a soft hand along Faith's forearm, "I want to."

  


Faith frowned. "Stealing from your dad is a no-no."

  


"Why?" Tara asked, recoiling to cross her arms over her chest, "You steal stuff all the time."

  


“I steal shit that people won’t miss,” Faith corrected her, “And from people that won’t kill me for it.”

  


“Kill _me_?” Tara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. He needs me around to do all the housekeeping while my mom's laid up in the hospital. I'm not getting killed anytime soon."

  


Faith couldn't help but hear the disappointment in Tara's voice, as if she wouldn't mind being taken down by her father in order to get out of the stupid role of maid they'd forced her into. Faith didn't really blame her. The Maclays were a weird family, and Faith couldn't help the bile that rose in her throat any time she spent more than five minutes near the ones not named Tara.

  


If she was honest with herself, she really dug Tara's mom, too, even though she secretly hated the woman for being a sweet and soft clone of her own mother. Too watered down and concerned with keeping her men happy to do anything to take care of the one decent thing she'd made in her life. Tara didn't see it that way, though, and maybe it was because she'd gotten a little watered down too. Faith didn’t know, but she _did_ know that with some time and effort, she could break Tara of it.

  


In a sudden rush of fire, Faith caught the other half of Tara's secret message, something she nearly missed, and deepened her frown. "Hospital? Your mom's in the hospital this time?"

  


Tara bit her lip and nodded shyly. "For a few days. Observation or… or something. My dad wouldn't tell me very much."

  


"Do they know what's making her faint all the time?"

  


Tara shook her head and sighed, "That's what the observation is for. They think that m-maybe… maybe the cancer, um, spread. To h-her brain."

  


“Probably didn’t,” Faith muttered, “They’re just making something outta nothing. You know, doctors being doctors and all.”

  


Tara remained silent, keeping her head down while Faith studied the wall behind Tara's head. She couldn't rip it apart with Tara right there, but, God, did she want to break something. The last thing she needed to hear right now was that Tara's mom might kick the bucket for real. It seemed reasonable to be positive about the outcome just a few minutes earlier, but Faith had a sinking feeling in her gut that she was wrong.

  


And Tara would need her now more than ever.

  


How was she supposed to take care of her? Faith could barely keep herself in food and clothes half the time, and the idea of comforting Tara on top of all that made her feel like screaming. She cared for Tara, hell, she'd probably take a bullet for her if it ever came down to it, but she still didn't know how to be there for her. Everything read like Spanish when their friendship came into question, and Faith still didn't think she was getting any better at it.

  


Practice made perfect, or so she'd heard once upon a time, so Faith figured she’d give it another shot and hope for the best.

  


"T?"

  


Tara looked up, her eyes wide and brimming with anguish once more. "Yes?"

  


"I'm here for you too."

  


Tara gave her the smallest of smiles, glanced down at her hands, then peeked back up at Faith through her hair looking even more tearful than before. "Th-thank you."

  


Faith reached out to grab her hand, hoping that maybe a little physical comfort might help, but that didn't seem to be enough for Tara. Instead of taking her hand, Tara leaned heavily on Faith's shoulder and filled the gap between them, just a few short inches, and nuzzled in like a puppy.

  


Faith gulped, the contact not unfamiliar but certainly unexpected, and eventually whispered, "We'll be good, T. Always are."

  


"Does this mean you might stay?" Tara sounded like a kid being offered a brand new toy, maybe even her first toy ever, and taking it away felt wrong. It made Faith feel wrong.

  


She simply couldn't refuse Tara when she got that little flicker of hope in her voice. Tara had a lot of it, the poor kid lived and breathed it, but she rarely gave voice to the fire that smoldered in her chest and kept her going day to day. Faith often wondered what that must be like, for the world to have not kicked her down so many times that she'd given up on everyone and everything years ago. Tara had plenty of reasons to be like Faith, to not give a damn about anyone or anything, but she fought on anyway, just so she could get kicked again and again.

  


Dwelling on hope and trust turned out to be pointless most of the time, but Faith didn't have much choice in the matter when it came to Tara.

  


"Maybe," Faith finally said with a shrug, "If I can figure it out."

  


"We," Tara corrected her, tilting up her chin a little in defiance, "I'm the one with the mojo."

  


Faith scoffed, "You think a little hocus pocus will solve my money problems?"

  


"We won't know until we try."

  


"It wouldn’t hurt," Faith said, relaxing against the headboard and forcing her shoulder-leaning companion to do the same.

  


Tara nodded into Faith's shoulder, then wrinkled her nose at the TV, "Can we watch something else? All this zombie stuff is making me nauseous."

  


Faith smirked and leaned forward to feel around the bed for the remote, simply glad to have the real Tara back. When she found it, she taunted Tara with it by dangling it in front of her scowling face. Faith laughed when she jerked it away from her and started flipping through channels in search of something undoubtedly fluffier. Tara was big on the fluff.

  


“Any other night, and I wouldn't be so big on the giving.” Faith muttered.

  


Tara whirled around and gave her a crooked smile. “Liar.”

  


As much as she wanted to, Faith knew she couldn't argue with that logic, so she shut off the lamp and settled in with Tara on the bed. She tried to imagine they were someplace else while bright colors from the TV flickered through the dark motel room, because being with Tara made it way too easy to pretend everything didn't totally suck. Like her mom wasn't some flighty whore and her dad actually existed, or maybe Tara's mom had adopted her and the three of them lived somewhere together, and Tara's dad and brother were dead due to some kind of suspicious fire the the three of them had absolutely nothing to do with.

  


And, without meaning to, Faith found herself imagining for just a split second that she and Tara were a _thing_ , like, a real-life couple. That’s when she realized that might have been taking things a little bit too far, and she laughed.

  


“What's got you all smiley?” Tara whispered, tilting back her head to look up at Faith.

  


“I dunno.” Faith shrugged. “Maybe it’s got something to do with the pretty girl in my bed?”

  


Tara blushed and looked down at her hands like she was embarrassed or something, but Faith caught the grin spreading across her face, hidden behind a thin veil of brown hair. That alone made the night feel like it was worth something, beneath all the crap, and Faith couldn’t help smirking back at her.

  


“If you keep talking like that, I’ll never want to leave this bed.”

  


“If you hurry up and pick something for us to watch, I won’t make you.”


End file.
